


A Life in Poems

by james



Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Established Relationship, Lambert has a potty mouth, M/M, Polyamory
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-05
Updated: 2021-01-05
Packaged: 2021-03-11 01:40:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,380
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28417011
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/james/pseuds/james
Summary: Jaskier loves his life, traveling with his beloved Witchers.  Only everything isn't wonderful, and he tries to hide his worries from his lovers.  Turns out, not as well as he'd hoped.
Relationships: Eskel/Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion/Lambert
Comments: 5
Kudos: 74
Collections: fandomtrees





	A Life in Poems

**Author's Note:**

  * For [the_interuniversal_geometer](https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_interuniversal_geometer/gifts).



Jaskier had spent more years than he cared to think about, waiting for, hoping for, trying desperately not to beg for an invitation to Kaer Morhen for the winter. He knew the Witchers spent their winters there to rest and recuperate. Lambert called it 'hibernating' but Geralt had laughed and said there were too many chores for it to be that. 

They didn't talk about it much, but Jaskier had gathered the tidbits and hints they'd dropped, whether intentionally or not. It was just another sort of research, and wouldn't his professors be amazed to know he could dedicate himself to something not related to music?

Well, that wasn't to say he wasn't writing a song about the Wolves' Keep, but that was only tangentially the reason he wanted to go.

He wanted to go – he wanted to be _invited_ because it meant the people he'd come to think of as... well friends, obviously, but... It was difficult to even think the words. Jaskier closed his eyes and listened to the soft wind rustling the trees. All three of his _lovers, friends, beloveds_ were off in the forest. Eskel and Geralt were searching for herbs for their potions and Lambert was tasked with bringing back dinner. 

The sun was going to set soon and the air was growing distinctly chilly. Soon his Witchers would start asking him his plans for the winter, was he returning to Oxenfurt or going to some court or another to entertain.

They never asked if he wanted to go with them. Early on, of course, it was just he and Geralt and they didn't even spend the entire rest of the year traveling together. Jaskier knew his presence was merely tolerated at the beginning, though it became more as time went on and the results of his songs started showing themselves. He'd met Lambert in one of those times away from Geralt and the other Witcher had recognised him almost immediately. Jaskier had traveled with him for a few weeks before parting ways and finding Geralt once more.

The following year Jaskier had come upon Eskel and they'd done the same, and for a few years it seemed he simply circled among the three, until four years ago he'd found Geralt and Eskel together and joined them, and somehow Lambert had stumbled upon them as well a month later. They divided up for contracts, but drifted back together until they were traveling as a group more often than not.

Jaskier wasn't even sure, now, which of them had made the first move to make _traveling companions_ into something more. Probably it had just happened, since the Witchers were used to sleeping together when chance allowed, and sex was one of the more pleasant ways to pass time during the winter. They knew one another quite well, almost to the point of not needing words.

Jaskier had laughed at Geralt when he'd figured that one out, and Eskel and Lambert had quickly started helping Jaskier tease Geralt, interpreting his grunts and 'hmm's into increasingly outlandish comments. Now, once in a while, if Geralt simply 'hmmed' in response to a question, one of them would supply a translation, something truly ridiculous while Geralt rolled his eyes and tolerated them. 

It made Jaskier feel warm, to feel like he belonged to the group. Part of the family, to share the in-jokes and camaraderie.

Sharing their beds made him feel like he belonged as well, but then every autumn they started traveling north and one of them eventually asked Jaskier where _he_ was going to go.

He wanted to ask. He wanted to be asked, but he knew he couldn't force himself upon them. If they wanted him along, they would tell him. The fact that every year they encouraged him to go anywhere else on the Continent made Jaskier realise that no matter how much he felt like he was part of their family – he really wasn't.

He'd heard enough to know spending a winter there might not be good for him. Cold, bleak, and nothing really to do for someone who wouldn't be keeping in fighting and hunting shape. He wouldn't be able to help with repairs or hunting for food, and once the snows set in he might not be able to venture outside at all. He'd not only be a liability, but he'd actively need them to take care of him rather than relaxing and focusing on themselves.

He knew that. He _knew_ and yet – he wanted to be asked. He wanted one of them to say _hey, we would invite you, but it wouldn't be safe or healthy for you._

Jaskier opened his eyes and looked up at the tree canopy. High above something flitted among the branches. There was something chirping not too far off, and faintly he thought he could hear the creek they'd crossed over right before making camp.

He could hear none of the Witchers. Too quiet, stealthy and clever and so much better suited for this life than a measly human bard.

Jaskier inhaled sharply, knowing that if he made any sort of sound they would hear him. If he let out any of his distress they would converge, swords ready, and they would find him here with his miserable thoughts and he would have to explain. Confess that he felt lonely, here with all four of them traveling together.

Pressing his hands against his eyes, Jaskier tried desperately to keep it all in. Winter would come soon enough and he could throw himself on his bed and cry to his broken heart's content. He'd done it last year, then composed a number of sad songs and poetic laments.

He'd had enough to comprise an entire volume -- a title for which he still didn't have, but the manuscript lay waiting at the University's Press. Another volume of brilliant work by the esteemed Julian Pankratz, whose inspiration no one could truly guess.

 _Think of something nice,_ he told himself. _They'll be back soon. Think of anything, something – think of sex._ Arousal would mask any feelings of grief or pain, and would work to distract them all from Jaskier's emotional weaknesses.

He shoved himself upright and stared at the pile of sticks he'd gathered. He'd been charged with building the fire, but of course there was no point in trying to light it when he could wait for someone to cast a fire sign at it. Everything else was done, berries gathered from nearby, waterskins refilled at the creek.

He took another deep breath and told himself how lucky he was to be allowed to accompany Geralt and his brothers at all.

There was a snap of a twig and Jaskier leapt to his feet, gasping as Geralt walked into the small clearing. Jaskier frowned – realising that Geralt had made noise on purpose to alert him. He was holding a leather pouch, bulging full of the plants he'd gathered; a moment later Eskel stepped out from the trees as well, holding a nearly identical bag.

They were both looking at him seriously, but neither said a word. Geralt glanced at him twice as they moved to sit and sort through their findings; Jaskier sat back down opposite the fire pit. Eskel flicked his fingers and the fire burst into flame. 

Another moment and Lambert walked up, holding a short brace of pheasants.

“Are you going to tell us,” Geralt asked, quietly.

“Tell you what?” Jaskier asked, because surely they didn't mean – they'd have to be mind readers to know what he'd been thinking about, too far away to scent him or hear the pounding of his heartbeat.

Hadn't they been too far?

“Told you we should let him mope, get it all out,” Lambert said, tossing the birds down and digging through the sticks for skewers.

Geralt gave him a sharp glare, but when he looked back at Jaskier, his expression was open and worried.

“I don't know what you're talking about?” Jaskier said, trying his best to think and act like there had never been a thing wrong in his life. _Think about sex_ he told himself frantically, but he could tell it wasn't working.

“Every autumn, you get upset about something,” Eskel said calmly. “You don't tell us anything. By spring you're always over it.”

“We just want to know if we can help,” Geralt said. 

Jaskier felt his jaw drop as he stared. Geralt kept looking from him back down to his work, as though checking him for a reaction. Eskel was watching him steadily and Lambert was focused on his own work, complaining that he hadn't been able to find the nest of eggs he was sure had been somewhere near. Breakfast was going to be cold, which was Lambert's least favorite type of breakfast ever.

“You...you....” Jaskier had no idea what to say. He certainly couldn't tell them the truth, but...he hadn't even realised they would notice. And yet they had noticed, every year, it seemed.

“These fuckers want to know if we need to come with you,” Lambert suddenly said. “If there's some shit you have to deal with, like going home to your shitty folks. Or whatever.” He waved his knife, which he was using to cut off the birds' wings.

“Uh--” was all Jaskier managed, and he felt his jaw drop again. He didn't bother trying to compose himself, because what the fuck.

And then he felt a bubble of hope. They'd come with him if they thought he wanted it. Spend their winter – one of them would, at least – with him instead of going home.

“Would you....” He began, then stopped, because it occurred to him that they still might not want him at the keep. But maybe it would be enough to know he _could._

That he was wanted.

Was he ready to hear that he might not be welcomed? Would he be willing to blame it on the lack of hospitality of Kaer Morhen, and not of his Witchers themselves?

Geralt suddenly stood and came over, sitting down beside him. Jaskier found himself being pulled into an embrace, one he rarely got outside of a bedroll or bed. He tucked his head onto Geralt's shoulder, and just breathed for a while.

He closed his eyes, knowing he was testing their patience with him, and said quickly, “Doyoueverwantmetogowithyou.” He inhaled, gulping air and didn't know if he could say it again if they hadn't understood him.

He felt as much as heard their surprise. Opening his eyes he saw Eskel staring at him, wide-eyed. Lambert was scowling, glaring at the bird in his hand. Geralt-- oh. Geralt was kissing him. Jaskier let his mouth fall open, as much from habit as anything, and let himself be kissed.

“We didn't think you'd like it,” Eskel said. “A winter with nothing but grumpy Witchers, when you could be with friends or patrons, playing your music for the crowds.”

Geralt looked at him. “You said your favorite festival was the Midwinter Night, with a hundred people with nothing to do but dance to your music and listen to your songs.”

“I... yes, it was. It used to be,” Jaskier admitted. “But...I _miss_ you when we're not together. And you've never asked. I didn't know if you even wanted me.... If it's too dangerous or cold for humans, I'll understand if I _can't_ go,” Jaskier said, all of his words spilling out, now unfettered. “But I wanted to know... I wanted to be asked. That you _wanted_ me.”

He hastily shoved his face against Geralt's chest, not ready to see their reactions. For a second there was nothing but a sharp intake of breath, then he felt Geralt's hand on the back of his head. Softly, caressing, and there was a press of lips to his forehead.

“Fucking stupid,” Lambert said. “These assholes are boring as fuck and we wanted to ask you years ago. They said you were happier going to parties we can't go to.”

There was a thump, like Eskel had reached over and punched Lambert. But Jaskier raised his head. 

“I used to,” he said again, clearly. “I did used to like it, being able to go without worrying Geralt's senses were being overwhelmed, or that he'd get bored and start fights.”

“Which of us starts fights?” Geralt asked, dryly. Jaskier patted him on the arm and ignored him.

He found himself relaxing, because his Witchers were just watching him calmly, and Lambert, who never told a lie because the truth was more fun, had said it. 

“We do want you to come with us,” Geralt said, and Jaskier looked at him. He found Geralt staring at him, looking as soft and gentle and sincere as he ever did. “We assumed you'd say no.”

Jaskier tucked his head back down onto Geralt's shoulder again, enjoying the feel of being held. “Ask me,” he whispered.

Geralt ducked down and kissed him. Eskel asked, “Will you come with us to Kaer Morhen?”

“Yes,” Jaskier said, as quickly as he could. 

“Fucking told you,” Lambert said. He set three birds over the fire, and gave them all a glare. “One of these days you're going to fucking listen to me. I know what the fuck I'm talking about.”

“How would you know anything about relationships?” Eskel asked. “You only ever slept with whores and Witchers, same as the rest of us, before we found Jaskier.”

Lambert looked smug. “I fucking read a book now and then, don't I? Makes me the fucking smart one,” he added, and Jaskier felt Geralt sigh in amusement.

Jaskier frowned. “What books do you read that tell you about relationships?” He had a vague idea, but wanted to be sure before he laughed in Lambert's face, if he was reading about courtly love.

Lambert looked him square in the face and said, “Poetry. Pankratz' stuff.”

Jaskier felt his face blush completely red.

“Pankratz?” Eskel asked. 

Jaskier shouted, “Gosh I'm really starved is supper ready?”

Geralt still had his arm around Jaskier's waist, and now Eskel and Geralt were both looking at him in confusion, and oh dear Melitele, it was going to be a fucking long winter.

But...maybe it would also be a nice one.


End file.
